Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Rwanda and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Lalo Schifrin to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rotary Connection,
Bobby Womack,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Panda Bear,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Alison Limerick,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Harry Pussy,
EPMD,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Godley & Creme,
Roxette,
JFA,
Yellowson,
Alphaville,
The American Breed,
Guru Guru,
DJ Style,
Arcadia,
The Blues Magoos,
Yazoo,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Bar-Kays,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
DNA,
The Dirtbombs,
Wasted Youth,
ABBA,
Sparks,
Blancmange,
Crash Course in Science,
Danielle Patucci,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Deadbeat,
The Seeds,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Terrestrial Tones,
Infiniti,
Deepchord,
Severed Heads,
The Moody Blues,
The Sound,
The Victims,
Mr. Review,
Roy Ayers,
Ice-T,
Colin Newman,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nico,
Joey Negro,
Yusef Lateef,
Funky Four + One,
Henry Cow,
Freddie Wadling,
Lungfish,
Alton Ellis,
Moss Icon,
Whodini,
The Vogues,
Young Marble Giants,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Masters at Work,
the Sonics,
Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.